


Take a Second Look (Give Me a Chance)

by AetherSeer



Series: Trio 'verse [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Developing Relationship, First Time, Intersex, M/M, Massage, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: Jakub’s not blind. He’s also not scent-blind. Michal’s attractive; he has kind eyes and broad shoulders, a hockey ass Jakub can appreciate for the work put into it, and he plays damn good hockey. His scent’s more than enticing, too, and Jakub’s gotten more than one whiff of distinctinterestover the past month and a half.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a shared ‘verse which will follow multiple storylines. This follows "Caught Off Guard," starting two days after where it leaves off. Hop on over to Catznetsov's "Ruin the Friendship" for Chandler and Jay Beagle, or "Just a Taste" for Nathan Walker, Braden Holtby, and Philipp Grubauer. The different series will be complementary but don’t have to be read in any order.
> 
> A note borrowed from Catznetsov: All characters in the ‘verse will be intersex, ie, with human sexual anatomy of various forms outside the typical definitions of ‘female’ or ‘male.’ These are not representations of all intersex people. My intention is to communicate the relevant details of sex acts for you in tagging, while resisting descriptions that gender/‘sex’-code specific anatomy.

The call, when it comes, isn’t entirely unexpected. But Michal’s still caught off guard, considering he’d contributed a point just two nights before. But Chicago has no room for a seventh d-man, and Michal’s been relegated to the box too often this season.

Bowman’s at least honest with him. “We’re trading you to Washington. They had their eyes on you, specifically, to be frank. And I have the feeling you’ll see a bit more ice time with Washington than you did here.”

The chirps from his teammates—former teammates now, he guesses—don’t exactly help.

    **Toews:** sorry your traded. It was good having you on the team Michael

    **Seabrook:** yea, sorry its to a team who’s d sucks ass too

    **Crawford:** guess you’ll have to fix the caps d. the hard way.

    **Keith:** Kemp’s an alpha. the only way to fix d like the caps is with actual d

    **Seabrook:** guess their just into ur d

    **Crawford:** at least the kid’s not the ugliest of Washingtons problems

Michal’s face flushes with the scent-memory of Jakub Vrána trying to tuck his nose against Michal’s scent glands in the basement of the United Center. The omega had smelled fertile, ripe with what had to have been his first heat. Michal’s mouth waters at the memory, zoning out on the softness of Vrána’s skin where his shirt had come untucked at his hip, at the warmth of his body snugged up against Michal’s bulk.

Michal’s phone buzzes again, the group chat devolving into chirps about Washington’s omega players. Michal mutes the notifications and slowly sets down the phone. He stares blankly at his bedroom wall, not seeing the calm gray paint he’d just picked out and painted. And okay, it stings a bit that he’s been traded for a third-round draft pick, but honestly, he’ll take what he can get at this point. The NHL hasn’t exactly been the dream job.

 

Michal’s still spun ‘round from the whirlwind of the trade when he gets to the hotel in D.C. that night. The Capitals’ staff is kind, but Michal catches maybe one word in three. It’s enough to understand he’s expected to attend practice the next day, however.

He vaguely hopes he remembered all the relevant gear, and maybe a comb, before he faceplants into the sterile-smelling sheets and passes out. At least he’s out of Chicago. At least here they’ll expect him to _play._

 

Michal’s not expecting to walk into the locker room and get hit in the face with freshly-heated omega scent. He sneezes abruptly, eyes watering. And then wishes he hadn’t just inhaled when that omega-mint-home scent settles in his nose.

The scent lessens, or maybe he’s getting used to it, by the time he reaches the stall with his name. Washington’s equipment managers work fast; there’s a pair of folded practice jerseys resting beneath new gloves in Capitals colors. And he can see his own equipment, whisked away upon arrival, neatly organized in the cubby above. Michal’s willing to bet the sticks he brought with him are waiting, and their replacements already on file for orders.

The ice is the same, even if the red jerseys are a shade or two off and the mix of languages blending together is wholly different. The raucous laughter echoing across the rink when someone loses an edge and takes out a teammate is familiar, though, and Michal takes his first step as a Capital with confidence.

 

The Caps grow from one Czech to three in a span of six days when Jakub Jeřábek steps into the room just two days after Michal himself. The Caps’ younger players practically fall over each other trying to figure out which Jakub has seniority, until Vrána rolls his eyes and points to himself. “Kuba, or V,” he says with a raised eyebrow. He points at Jeřábek, “he’s Jakub, since I’m younger.”

“Jerry,” Eller sing-songs from halfway across the room, “if the Habs are in town.”

Jeřábek grimaces, but doesn’t argue. Well, not in English, anyway. Michal snickers, and V grins.

 

It’s pretty clear from game tape that the Caps need Michal on the ice. It shows in the relief on his teammates’ faces when they start winning more, stop bleeding goals. It shows in the loosening of Carly’s shoulders post-practices, the fewer minutes he’s sent to play each night. Michal knows his place on the ice, working to give his team better possession, scoring chances, openings. That’s easy.

What’s not so easy is navigating a new team. At least the Caps aren’t big on the “One Language” policy a lot of Europeans have to adjust to. It’s easy to slip beneath the locker room chatter in six different languages, let the conversation flow around him, for the first few practices, games, workouts.

It’s a little more difficult to ignore the scents permeating the room. The D-corps for the Caps is nearly all alphas, Michal included, and there’s still another handful of alphas among the forwards. Michal’s still sorting out everyone’s individual scents, but he can pick out the bright mint that belongs to V even from across the room.

V catches him watching, red creeping across his cheeks. Michal doesn’t make a move—he might have been traded specifically for V, but that doesn’t matter unless V _wants_ an alpha. V’s mouth twists, and Michal drops his eyes.

Michal doesn’t actually know what V _wants_ from him. V doesn’t seem to share the D-corps’ enthusiasm for Michal. He avoids touching Michal outside of the occasional celly, and stays wrapped up in Kuzy’s scent enough that Michal gets the more-than-obvious message. It’s a little hurtful, that V would seek a beta’s scent as a deterrent to Michal’s interest. _Michal’s_ not going to be the one to force the issue.

After all, what smells good— _who_ smells good—while in heat doesn’t always translate when outside heat. Michal’s heard _that_ often enough from other alphas and the occasional omega.

But as much as V’s made his disinterest clear, Michal still catches him scenting the air every so often as Michal passes. And Ovi certainly seems to think Vrána’s going to make a move, if the sly (but not subtle) glances he throws at the two of them are any indication. Bäckström, however, is carefully blank. And Jakub’s of no help.

“What, did you think it’d be like a movie?” Jakub teases as they wait for their turns in the shootout drill. “You walk into the room and he swoons into your arms?”

If V’s disinterested, Jakub’s broadcasting his distaste for the entire situation. There’s only a handful of Czechs in the league, and for the Caps to specifically trade for both an alpha _and_ a beta when their star rookie Presents as an omega? It’s a pretty obvious play. And Jakub’s having none of it.

But he’s happy to mock Michal for sniffing after the rookie, regardless. “You realize the Caps bought you for him, right? That if he doesn’t want you, you’re gone?”

And okay, that smarts. Because Michal’s _good,_ and he’s slotting into the Caps’ defense, playing more minutes than he ever saw in Chicago.  But he doesn’t have time to come up with a retort before it’s his turn to make his shot at Holtby, snapping one into the low corner.

 

It’s only because Michal’s watching that he sees V’s wince as he strips out of his gear after practice. When the rookie turns, Michal’s eyes catch on the subtle swelling in his pectoral muscles. Next to him, Jakub sneezes.

Michal jolts back to awareness, flicking a glance around the crowded locker room. Jakub hums thoughtfully, glancing over at V. “You know it’s rude to stare, Miki,” he says quietly, too low for V to overhear.

“I’m not—” Michal tries to protest.

“—you are, though,” Jakub counters. “You’re throwing out pheromones left and right just now. I’m pretty sure every beta on the _team_ knows you want him.”

Oh. Michal drops his eyes and focuses on yanking his skate laces loose.


	2. Chapter 2

Jakub rubs idly at his chest. It’s swollen again, for the third time in as many weeks. The swelling is always temporary, just a few days, and Dr. Klimkiewicz assured him it’s a perfectly normal reaction for a recently Presented omega, but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable. Because it’s not.

Jakub winces as he pulls his pads on, the pressure adding to the discomfort. By end of practice, his nipples will be rubbed raw, chafed from sweat and friction. He leans over to tie his skates and catches Kempný staring at him. Jakub narrows his eyes; Kempný looks away first. Fucking alphas.

He has to amend that statement once he’s on the ice, flying up the wing with Oshie on his right, Nicke sending a beautiful connecting pass that Jakub can flick right to T.J. for a snipe over Grubi’s shoulder. T.J. throws his arms up and cellies, not caring that it’s just practice, and Nicke skates right to him for the hug. Jakub course-corrects to glide into the hug—and immediately regrets it when he has to grit his teeth against the pain.

 

Taking off his pads is a welcomed relief. But when Jakub whimpers stripping off his under armour, Kempný’s not the only one whose head snaps up at attention. Beags is the first to reach Jakub, though he’s careful not to touch him. “How long ago did you notice the swelling?” he asks quietly.

“It started this morning,” Jakub grits out. His face is burning. This cannot be happening to him, in the middle of the fucking locker room. “I’m fine.”

Beags’ mouth twitches, but he doesn’t dispute Jakub’s assertion. He just walks back to his stall and rummages through his bag. Around them, the room starts moving again, guys chattering and chirping each other before disappearing into the showers in little clusters.

Beags holds out a tube of … something. Jakub doesn’t take it. Beags rolls his eyes and slaps it into Jakub’s palm. “It’s a cream. Helps with the chafing. Put it on twice a day; it’s worth it.”

Jakub turns away, hurriedly stripping the rest of his gear and making his way to the showers. The hot water feels amazing against his skin, washing away the sweat and grime, but Jakub has to hold back noises behind gritted teeth as he soaps up his sore chest and red, irritated nipples. He scrubs down quickly, practiced from a lifetime of hockey.

When he gets back to his stall, someone’s already taken care of putting away his gear and laying out fresh clothes from his bag. The tube of fucking _nipple cream_ lies on top of the neatly folded shirt and pants. But when Jakub looks around the room, no one’s looking back.

Jakub picks up the tube. It’s not big, maybe half the size of a tube of toothpaste. He can read most of the English instructions, definitely enough of them to understand what to do with it. But he’s not going to stand here and practically massage his nipples in the middle of the _locker room._ Except … Beags offers him a smile, and Jakub remembers that Beags has been an omega in a hockey locker room for over a decade. Surely he would _know._

The cream’s thick on his fingers, but cool to the touch. Jakub tentatively touches his fingertips to one nipple, sucking in a breath. But it doesn’t hurt any _worse,_ so Jakub will take it. He spreads the cream over his skin, rubbing gently, carefully, until it’s all soaked in. Jakub can feel his shoulders hunching, the heat creeping up his face. But there’s a little lessening of ache already, enough that his chest isn’t screaming at him when he pulls his shirt on.

 

Kempný seems fascinated by Jakub’s chest. Jakub doesn’t know if it’s just an alpha thing or a Kempný thing, but the staring is really getting weird. Especially since that’s _all_ that’s happening. Jakub walks in the room and Kempný’s riveted. He’s not leering or cat-calling or anything like that, but … he just never stops _looking._

“My eyes are up here,” Jakub finally spits out after practice. He’s waiting for the cream—which is _amazing,_ thank you, Beags—to soak in after application, and Kempný’s been staring at him since Jakub got out of the showers.

“What?” Startled brown eyes swing up to meet Jakub’s. And Kempný actually honest-to-god _blushes._ They’re the same height, but Jakub feels the height difference when Kempný’s still sitting in his stall. Kempný wets his lips; Jakub feels a frisson of _something_ go down his spine. “You keep staring at me,” Jakub says. “Specifically, you keep staring at my—” he gestures to his chest, oddly reluctant to put a name to the issue.

He’s glad no one else on the team speaks Czech, although Jeřábek looks to be smothering a laugh. Kempný goes redder still, ducking his head. Kempný’s fingers flutter where they rest on his thigh. Kempný licks his lips. “I could, um, I could … I could help out. With this. Help you out.”

Jakub takes a moment. “How?”

“You’re sore, yeah? Like, pre-heat soreness? Massaging it helps, and self-massage doesn’t always—it’s hard to get the right angles. So, um, I’m offering. If you want.” Kempný looks nothing but earnest, and Jakub doesn’t really know how to even begin to unpack that offer.

“How—What?”

Kempný’s eyes flick down to Jakub’s chest and linger for a moment before he looks back at Jakub. “It’s really forward, I know, but … the Caps brought me here for _you,_ and … I can do this for you. Make it easier for you to play.”

Jakub rubs absently at his aching chest as he considers. Kempný’s still sitting in his stall, head tipped back to watch Jakub’s face. “And if I decide it’s not helping?”

“Then I’ll stop.” As easy as that. Jakub registers the background noise of teammates packing up to head home, now done for the day. He glances over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of Tom, watching him and Kempný. Tom raises an eyebrow; Jakub shrugs just the tiniest bit. What could it hurt?

“Okay,” he says.

 

Jakub sits on the table in the trainers’ room. He’s still not wearing a shirt, the nipple cream long since soaked into his skin. Kempný—Michal—taps the outside of Jakub’s thigh. “It’s easier if you lie down—”

Jakub swings his legs up and lies flat. He shouldn’t feel this nervous. Michal’s team. He’ll soon be more than that, if Caps management has their way. And the door to the room is open to the hallway; Jakub can hear Ovi and T.J. yelling distantly, and Jakub’s sure Tom won’t leave until he knows Jakub’s fine. Tom’s overprotective like that.

Michal arranges himself so he’s level with Jakub’s shoulders. Like this, he looms over Jakub. Michal rubs his hands together for a few moments before setting them just below Jakub’s clavicle. Jakub flinches away from even that slight pressure.

But Michal’s hands are big and warm, and he moves slowly, pulling the tightness away from Jakub’s chest to the sides. With each slow, firm pass, Jakub sinks more into the tabletop, and the ache lessens. Jakub rolls his head to the side and watches Michal. The alpha’s forehead is furrowed, concentrating as his fingertips dig in just the perfect amount and roll Jakub’s muscle to loosen it.

“S-So good,” Jakub groans. “How’d you get so good at this?”

Michal flicks Jakub a glance and then has to move to get Jakub’s other side. Jakub shifts to track him. “I had an omega before I signed with the Blackhawks,” Michal says. “She got pre-heat swelling really badly every time. So instead of going to get massages three days every three months, she had them teach me how to help.”

“‘M not a girl,” Jakub manages, adding a weak glare. But Michal’s fingers hit a really sore spot and circle, and then he’s busy groaning at the feeling.

“Yeah, that’s pretty hard to miss,” Michal says. Jakub can’t come up with a snappy retort, arching up into the firm press of Michal’s hands. He barely notices the hesitant stutter of Michal’s fingers as they skirt the edge of his nipple, but he certainly notices when Michal takes his hands away.

“Why’d you stop?” Jakub demands, opening his eyes again. Michal’s cheeks are red beneath his beard; he averts his eyes. “You, uh, it wouldn’t be appropriate to do more, more than … it’s not …”

Oh. Jakub feels his own cheeks flush with … embarrassment? Arousal? He props himself up on his elbows and really _looks_ at Michal. The alpha shifts from foot to foot under his gaze, but tilts his chin up in offering.

Jakub’s not blind. He’s also not scent-blind. Michal’s attractive; he has kind eyes and broad shoulders, a hockey ass Jakub can appreciate for the work put into it, and he plays damn good hockey. His scent’s more than enticing, too, and Jakub’s gotten more than one whiff of distinct _interest_ over the past month and a half.

Jakub sits up. Michal backs up a step, lets Jakub swing his legs down. Jakub spreads his thighs, quirks a smile in Michal’s direction. “You want to, though,” he says. “Do more.” _With me,_ he doesn’t say.

Michal licks his lips, rubs a hand over his beard. He meets Jakub’s eyes. “Yes.”

 

Jakub’s never been in this position before. _He’s_ now the one sneaking glances across the ice, the weight room, the locker room. _He’s_ the one calculating the breadth of Michal’s shoulders, the power in his thighs … and the size of his cock, if Jakub’s honest with himself. And Michal doesn’t do anything to counter Jakub’s newfound fascination. He actually seems to welcome it, if the way he flushes beneath Jakub’s gaze is any indication.

After practices, after games, Jakub lets himself get lost in imagining Michal’s hands on him again. Only this time, the older man doesn’t stop. This time, Michal’s hands sweep up around Jakub’s ribs and over the soft swelling of his pectorals, cupping them like he would a pretty female omega’s breasts. His thumbs press against the darker skin of Jakub’s nipples, which are already perking up, circling the areolas.

Jakub’s heel slips and hits the ground with a thud and a spark of pain. Jakub groans and opens his eyes. Maybe his living room isn’t the best place to get lost in a fantasy.


	3. Chapter 3

This time around, Jakub recognizes the symptoms for what they are when his heat comes on fast overnight. Thankfully he’s on home territory, where he can set up a temporary nest in his own apartment and not scandalize the hotel staff. (Beags had been adamant that the staff have seen worse, but Jakub still feels that frisson of shame running up his spine from time to time.)

When Jakub’s finished piling all the blankets and pillows he owns on his bed, he takes a step back and surveys the nest. It’s … not much. It doesn’t feel right. Not yet.

 

Beags picks up his phone on the second go-round, voice gravelly from sleep. “It’s four a.m., Kuba,” Beags yawns.

There’s a twinge of guilt, but the low thrum of heat is more pressing at the moment. “How do you make a nest? Mine looks all weird.”

Beags makes a startled noise. Jakub can hear the rustle of fabric over the phone, and imagines the older omega’s sitting up in bed. “You’re in heat?”

“Think so,” Jakub says. “I never build a nest before, though.”

Beags hums. “It’s more instinct than anything else. And practice makes perfect,” he adds. “Your first nest is usually when you figure out which blankets never go back in the nest, and if you really _need_ six pillows.”

“I think I need more blankets,” Jakub says. The nest is looking pretty bare-bones, especially against the memories of Jakub’s parents’ nest. Jakub can just about hear Beags’ jaw crack on another yawn.

“You’re an adult, Jakub. If you want more blankets, you have a car.” Jakub’s reaching for his shoes when Beags coughs. “You could also see if Kemper would bring you some of his.”

Record-scratch. Freeze. Rewind. “What?” Jakub croaks out.

“You’re not subtle, kid. You like his scent.” Beags sounds impossibly gentle now, when Jakub’s frozen in his hallway. “You don’t have to fuck him, or ask him to stay, but I don’t think he’d say no if you asked for a blanket for your nest.”

 

Jakub curls up in his nest and watches the clock numbers blink. The ache low in his belly grows. Jakub whines into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. His palm is warm against the soft, vulnerable skin just above his waistband.

The clock glows against the dim light coming through the curtains. Jakub sighs, slips his fingertips beneath his waistband. He strokes over the wiry hair, traces where his thigh meets his pelvis. Shivers runs down his spine. His fingers trail down further, to where he’s hot and slick.

 

Michal’s nostrils flare when Jakub answers the door, slick drying on his fingers. The alpha licks his lips, swallows. His grip on the folded blanket in his arms tightens. “I … uh …” Michal stutters, eyes flicking from Jakub’s bare chest to his face to where Jakub’s fingers rest against the doorframe.

Michal holds out the blanket after a long moment where he can’t figure out a safe place to look. Jakub takes the time to take another look at the alpha on his doorstep at 6 a.m. “You came,” Jakub says softly.

Michal’s eyes snap to Jakub’s face. “You asked,” Michal says.

 _Oh._ Jakub’s stomach swoops. He takes a step back into his apartment. Michal’s face shutters. Jakub tilts his head, exposes his throat. “My nest is in my bedroom.”

“You’re sure? That you want—” _This? Me?_

“I’m sure,” Jakub says. He hopes his voice sounds confident. He’s nervous, of course, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe Michal will reject his offer. Michal steps through the door. His shoulder knocks against Jakub’s as they navigate the hallway. Jakub remembers to turn the lock, but has barely turned back around when Michal crowds him up against the door.

Jakub bites back a satisfied moan. He’s surrounded by warm-spice-home scent, and the heat of Michal’s body adds to the shivery desire suffusing his body. The ache down low hasn’t gone away, but rather intensifies, and Jakub shudders. He shifts, presses his thighs together.

The blanket is a soft cushion between them as Michal cups Jakub’s jaw. Those dark eyes search Jakub’s face for something, even as Jakub sees Michal scent him again. “Do you have any idea what you smell like?” Michal murmurs. He sways in closer, nose brushing Jakub’s cheekbone. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, Jakub shifts just a tiny bit and presses his lips to Michal’s. Michal’s fingers tip Jakub’s jaw, the kiss changes angles. Jakub’s breath hitches. He closes his eyes. He tracks the gentle scrape of Michal’s beard against his skin, the teasing pressure of Michal’s fingertips at his jaw, the soft, wet sounds of their lips sliding together.

 

Michal thankfully doesn’t comment on the sad state of Jakub’s nest. He holds out the blanket he’d brought instead, watches Jakub tuck it into the pile of linens on the bed already. Jakub bites his lip. He squirms, letting his weight settle him further amid the fabric. The sheets are cool against his back. “You just gonna watch?”

Michal drags his eyes down Jakub’s body—from Jakub’s face to where Jakub’s nipples are perking up to where Jakub has tucked his fingertips into his waistband. Jakub shivers under that heated gaze. “What are you going to let me do?” Michal asks.

Like Jakub knows the answer to that. He just wants Michal to do _something_ about this ache. He wants— “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” Jakub says. “But now I need your hands on me.”

“Just my hands?” Michal asks. He tugs his shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Jakub sucks in a breath. He’s seen Michal shirtless before—there’s no privacy in a locker room—but this time Michal’s getting naked for _Jakub._ And that’s different.

Shoes and socks gone, Michal hooks his fingers in his waistband, flicks a glance at where Jakub’s spread on the bed. Jakub licks his lips. Michal’s jeans join his shirt on the floor. The alpha puts a knee on the bed, and hesitates. “Michal,” Jakub says. “I want this. _Please._ ”

His pheromones must spike, or something, because Michal inhales deeply before crawling up to blanket Jakub. Jakub’s mouth goes dry at the sight, and then Michal’s weighing him down against his mattress and Jakub’s skin _screams_ its joy at being touched.

It’s nothing like his first miserable heat in that Chicago hotel. And Michal’s barely done anything more than kiss him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michal tucks his nose beneath the join of V’s—Jakub’s—neck, breathing in deeply. He’s still a little shell-shocked, but the omega beneath him is practically purring in contentment, so he’s not about to ask more questions. After all, Jakub’s made it clear that he _wants_ Michal in his bed. And Michal’s not turning him down.

Jakub’s scent coats the entire apartment in mint-home-omega, but now there’s a top layer of something Michal’s never been able to define as anything other than “heat.” And from where Michal’s lying, that top note is near-overwhelming in its potency. Michal breathes it in, placing tiny biting kisses down Jakub’s neck and over his collarbones. His omega pants open-mouthed, head tipped back against the pillows, eyes glazed over. He whines when Michal has to shift his weight to continue his path downward over all that exposed skin.

Jakub’s body _ripples_ —Michal has no other word for it—when Michal tongues over one pert nipple. Jakub’s hand come up to tangle in Michal’s hair and hold his mouth to Jakub’s chest even as his hips roll up against Michal’s stomach. “Oh! Oh … please!” Jakub moans.

Michal has _no_ issues following that order. At all. Jakub’s ridiculously sensitive, even moreso than Michal would’ve guessed from the massage. Jakub tenses and relaxes beneath the careful attention, one hand leaving Michal’s hair to brace against the wall over his head. Michal’s willing to bet Jakub’s toes are curling. Jakub tosses his head from side to side, mouth open in wordless pleasure as Michal laves over his nipple.

When Michal actually sucks, he gets kneed in the side as Jakub seizes up beneath him. The omega doesn’t seem to notice, keening and nearly crushing Michal’s nose against his pec. Michal gets his free hand, the one not currently kneading the soft flesh of Jakub’s chest, firmly planted on Jakub’s hips to force them down again. Jakub shudders and whines.

Michal bites lightly at the ridge of Jakub’s ribcage, tracing the line down to Jakub’s hipbone where it rises above the line of his shorts. He lifts his head, to watch Jakub’s face. The hand in his hair tightens, and Michal skirts the top of Jakub’s pelvis with his fingertips. “This okay?”

Jakub squeezes his thighs about Michal’s ribs. “Yes,” he gasps out. “I need—”

Michal wiggles back, taking Jakub’s shorts with him. There’s a moment where Jakub’s legs tangle with the fabric, and Michal holds back a laugh, but then they’re free. Jakub spreads his legs, giving Michal a look at what lies between them, and then freezes, flushing red down his chest. Michal leans his shoulder against the inside of one pale muscled thigh. “You say the word, I’ll stop,” he promises.

That doesn’t mean he won’t fantasize about Jakub once he’s back in his apartment, he thinks, but … he’s following Jakub’s lead here. And apparently that was the right thing to say, because Jakub stops trying to hide and peers down at Michal. “I don’t—” Jakub’s mouth works, but he doesn’t seem to have the words in either Czech or English or any of the other languages he apparently speaks.

Michal waits. He can be patient.

Jakub tips his head back, takes a handful of deep breaths. He swallows, then drops a hand to knead just above his pelvis. _Cramps,_ Michal thinks. Heat and touch and orgasm all help with those, but—but he waits for Jakub’s okay.

Jakub exhales slowly, then reaches down. Michal drops a kiss to Jakub’s fingers. That gets a startled laugh. He smiles back, and the nervous lines around Jakub’s eyes ease. “You want my hands or my mouth, or …” he prompts.

“Or?”

“Or we could keep things above the waist for now,” Michal offers.

Jakub bites his lip. “But … don’t you want—” he gestures to the slick, blood-flushed folds between his legs. Michal takes another look, because Jakub’s not hiding anything right now, and he’s not about to waste the invitation.

“Of course I want to,” Michal says. “I’d love to, when you’re comfortable with it. But I also like kissing, and I …” he might as well be completely honest, “… I’d really like to get my mouth back on your tits.”

Jakub sputters out a noise and turns bright red, hiding his face behind his hands. Michal waits him out. Jakub peeks at him under his hands, and visibly tries to regain his composure. He gets an elbow under himself and looks down at Michal. “You can—yeah—I’m not going to be the only one naked.”

Michal tosses him a grin and stands to shuck his briefs. “As my omega commands.”

He spares just a second to wonder if that was too much of a claim before Jakub rolls to his side and scoots further into the nest. Michal climbs back on the bed in the space left for him, facing Jakub. “You ever do this before?” he asks.

“You saw my first heat,” Jakub says.

“Not heat,” Michal says, although he has vivid memory of that moment in Chicago. “Just making out with someone. Nakedness optional, of course.”

He reaches out, strokes down Jakub’s exposed side. Jakub shivers, pulls his thighs tighter together. Michal hitches closer, presses his lips to Jakub’s in a closed-mouth kiss. Jakub chases him when Michal pulls away, leaning into Michal’s space. Michal kisses him again. And again. And again, until Jakub’s sighing into Michal’s mouth.

Michal brings his hands into play then, urging Jakub up to straddle Michal’s belly. Jakub goes easily, freezing only when he realizes he’s literally on top. Michal pauses, hands settling at Jakub’s hips. “Okay?” he checks.

“Okay,” Jakub says. He leans down for more kisses, which Michal is happy to provide. Michal’s hands are free to roam Jakub’s back and sides, stroking over the sweat-slick skin. Jakub starts a slow grind against Michal’s abs, something Michal is willing to bet he doesn’t realize he’s doing.

Michal’s not about to make him stop, though. Instead, Michal leans up and gets his mouth on the nipple he’d previously neglected. Jakub makes a high-pitched noise of surprise and then keens. His hands scrabble for purchase on Michal’s shoulders. Michal hums happily, one hand helping to brace Jakub above him, and the other reaching up to tweak Jakub’s other nipple.

Jakub drops to his elbows, balanced on Michal’s shoulders. He swears in a language Michal doesn’t know, hips jolting into a stuttered rhythm. Michal can feel the slick trail Jakub’s leaving on his skin. Jakub’s arms shake. His head drops. Michal sucks hard, just as he rolls his palm over the other, and Jakub’s mouth opens in a wordless cry.

Michal moves fast, getting both hands beneath Jakub to catch him as the omega’s arms give out and he shakes apart. Michal eases Jakub down, getting his head resting on Michal’s shoulder, Michal stroking up and down his back. Jakub’s gasps sound wet, and … yeah, there’s a few tears.

“Easy,” Michal murmurs. He ignores his own arousal, focusing on the omega in his arms. Jakub’s shudders calm, and his breathing slows. Michal doesn’t stop the slow passes of his hands until Jakub’s breathing evens out and his body slumps against Michal’s, completely out.

Well, that’s new.

 

Michal gently tips Jakub to the side, back into the nest of blankets. He reaches for the closest blanket, and pauses. That’s …

A quick trip to the bathroom solves that problem, and Michal returns with a warm wet cloth to run over Jakub’s skin. A quick pass gets his own spit off Jakub’s chest, and then a slower, gentler pass removes the worst of the slick from Jakub’s thighs. Jakub barely twitches at the touches. He might actually—Michal takes a closer look—yeah, he’s definitely drooling into the pillow. Oh, the sexiness of an omega in heat.

Michal flips out the blanket he’d brought, saturated with his own scent, and tucks it around Jakub. Maybe it’s a selfish move, but Michal _really_ likes the thought of literally wrapping Jakub up in his scent.

Michal checks the fridge. Jakub’s as bad as the rest of them when it comes to stocking his fridge, apparently. But there’s enough there for sandwiches, so Michal gets some of those put together on a plate. After opening six different cupboards, he finds Jakub’s stash of Gatorade, and stuffs the top shelf of the fridge full. Just in case. Hydration is important any day, but especially during heat.

He looks in on Jakub, who’s still dead to the world. Okay, then.

“Coach? This is Michal. Yeah, I’m not going to make practice today. Jakub is in heat. Vrána, yeah.” Trotz doesn’t seem terribly surprised to get the call. Michal promises to make it to practice and the game tomorrow, and goes to check back on Jakub.

Michal gets a sleepy glare for his trouble. “You left.”

“You fell asleep on me,” Michal retorts. “And I made sandwiches.”

Jakub sits up and makes grabby hands for the plate. Michal hands it over, and retrieves a couple of Gatorades, now cold, for them both. Jakub downs half of a gatorade, then wrinkles his nose. “Why does this not taste right?”

Michal raises an eyebrow. “It’s red Gatorade. Do you want a different color?”

“No. I’ll just drink it.” Apparently the changed flavor isn’t that big of a deal, because Jakub finishes that one and a second one before kicking free of the nest in favor of the bathroom.

Michal takes that time to get rid of the plate and empty bottles, and also shake any crumbs off the blanket. Jakub pads out of the bathroom and corners Michal in the kitchen, pinning him against the island. Jakub tucks his nose in the crook of Michal’s neck and scents him thoroughly. Michal cards his fingers through Jakub’s sweat-damp hair. Jakub hums, arms slung low around Michal’s hips, cheek resting against Michal’s collarbone.

“Ache’s building again,” Jakub confesses.

Michal rumbles low in his throat. He skims a hand down Jakub’s back, pausing just before the swell of Jakub’s ass. Jakub never bothered to get dressed again. Michal opens his mouth, scents the air. Jakub’s pheromones are building again, heat-scent thicker than before.

“I’ve never—” Jakub starts. He takes a breath, then really _looks_ at Michal. “I want your mouth on me,” he says firmly.

Michal says nothing about the nervous tremor he can feel running through Jakub’s body, pressed close as they are. “I can do that,” he promises. “But maybe not in the kitchen.”

 

Michal tips Jakub back onto the bed. Jakub goes easily enough, limbs akimbo. Michal licks his lips. “You want to see me or not?” he asks.

Jakub starts to say something, then snaps his mouth shut to think. “I want to see you,” he says slowly. “So, on my back?” He squirms upward, toward the pillows at the head of the bed. Michal stalks forward, eyes carefully kept on Jakub’s face.

Jakub lets out a tiny whimper when Michal crawls between his thighs, dropping to his elbows. “Say the word, and I stop,” Michal repeats. Because this is Jakub’s show. Not Michal’s. And Michal wants to make it _good_ for Jakub.

Jakub reaches a hand down, in a repeat of their earlier moment. Only this time, Jakub moves those fingers to cup between his thighs, sliding up and through the folds. His fingers come up shiny with slick. Michal tracks the movement, brain short-circuiting for a second when Jakub curls his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture.

He catches Jakub’s hand, licks those fingers clean. Jakub’s blue eyes widen as Michal fellates his fingers, cleaning them of every last trace of salty slick. But Michal’s hitching forward soon enough, pressing a kiss to the sensitive join where Jakub’s thigh meets his pelvis. Jakub’s muscles twitch beneath Michal’s lips. Michal noses in further, then licks a stripe up Jakub’s outer folds. Jakub actually squeaks, and his thighs clamp tight around Michal’s ears.

Michal can barely hear anything over the rush of his heartbeat, can barely smell beyond the overwhelming notes of Jakub’s heat-scent. He breathes in as deeply as he can, omega-heat-mint coating the back of his mouth, and sets to work.

Jakub’s sensitive here, too, and so, so responsive to the slightest changes in Michal’s movements. Long strokes up and down his folds cause him to tense, and he flinches away when Michal’s tongue flicks at his cock. _Too_ sensitive there, Michal thinks. When Michal manages to blindly part Jakub’s folds to lick _in,_ Jakub shouts.

Michal has to emerge for air, though, gulping in deep breaths after prying Jakub’s thighs apart. He replaces his mouth with his fingers, keeping long, even strokes. And then he adds his mouth back, this time letting his fingers slip just inside. “Ohhh,” Jakub sighs.

Michal runs his fingers around Jakub’s walls, just barely inside. Jakub throws his head back into the pillows, and his hips try to push back onto Michal’s fingers. Michal slides his free arm over Jakub’s belly, keeping him pressed down to the mattress and still, mostly to keep him from suffocating Michal. Jakub whimpers and twists against Michal’s hold.

Michal presses up and in with his fingers, and seals his mouth over Jakub’s cock. He licks at its tip; Jakub’s inner muscles tighten around his fingers and Jakub’s thighs try to close around him. “Oh, god,” Jakub chokes out. Michal’s mouth is busy, but he’s smugly satisfied with the noises he’s pulling from his omega.

Michal presses his fingers deeper, gets another choked cry and Jakub’s fingers twining into his hair in response. Jakub doesn’t pull hard, but he does try his best to pull Michal in even further, which … isn’t quite possible. Michal sets a rhythm, loosening his hold on Jakub’s hips.

Michal lifts his head just for a moment to watch Jakub practically ride his fingers. Jakub whines unhappily, though, and Michal ducks back down. It’s easy to tell when Jakub’s close: his thighs tremble, his rhythm falters, and just the slightest addition of suction to his cock tips him over the edge.

Michal backs away from the sensitive bud immediately. He’s been literally kicked away before, and had the bruises to prove it. But he leaves his fingers inside for now. Jakub might be an omega who prefers not to be empty, or he might dislike the feeling so soon after orgasm, or … there are plenty of possibilities, and Michal’s not sure which to expect.

Jakub clenches down around Michal’s fingers, like he would around Michal’s _knot,_ and Michal … Michal drops his forehead against one of Jakub’s thighs and just breathes.

Jakub shifts. Michal withdraws his fingers. Jakub makes a discontented noise, but doesn’t say anything else. Michal rolls to his back and rediscovers his own arousal, previously ignored in favor of getting Jakub off. It’s not going to take much, though. Not with heat-scent in the air and a gorgeous omega in bed next to him.

His fingers are still coated with omega slick, more than enough to help ease the way. Michal gets his hand around his cock and groans. Just the pressure and that slip-slide up and down, and he’s nearly there already. Above him, Jakub makes a noise. Michal tips his head back, meets Jakub’s wide-eyed gaze, and he’s _gone._

He digs his heels in, thighs and abs tensing. Come spills over his hand, mixing with the sheen of Jakub’s slick. Michal closes his eyes.  When he opens them, Jakub’s moved closer. “Hey,” Michal manages. He thinks he can probably be forgiven for blanking on every other word in his vocabulary right now.

“Hey,” Jakub says back.

 

Jakub claims the shower, and Michal surveys the bed—nest. It’s a bit of a disaster, if he’s honest. He’s careful not to dismantle the blanket construction as he strips the sheets to throw in the laundry. Hopefully either Jakub has a spare set or they get done before the next wave of heat drives them back to the bed.

Laundry started, Michal stops short in the kitchen. There’s not much there but more Gatorade. He sets them out anyway. Jakub steps out of the bedroom, rubbing his hair dry. “Shower’s free,” he offers. “I put out a towel for you.”

Michal touches his face, beard tacky with slick and spit, and grimaces. Yeah, a shower’s definitely in order. “You want to order something for delivery?” he asks. “You don’t have much else.”

Jakub nods and reaches for his phone. Michal’s barely made it past the kitchen door when Jakub swears. “What?”

“I forgot about practice. I’m so dead. Coach is going to kill me.”

Michal rubs his neck. “I, uh, already called and let him know we weren’t going to make it today.”

Jakub slowly sets down his phone and braces himself on the island. He doesn’t look at Michal. “So,” he says, “the whole team knows we’re …” he makes an obscene gesture.

There’s no good answer for that question. Michal runs his tongue over his teeth. “Fucking? That you called me to help with your heat?”

Jakub’s shoulders tense. Michal’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do right now. Upset omegas are one thing, but this isn’t a reaction he’d predicted when Jakub had invited him in. “Fuck. Okay. Okay.” Jakub sucks in air through his teeth, knuckles white. “This is … okay.”

“I’m just gonna …” Michal retreats to the shower. The warm water washes away the evidence of heat, in case Jakub decides he wants Michal to leave. Michal rests his head against the tile. Fuck, indeed, except fucking is what brought them to this moment. There’s no use dwelling on it, though, so Michal dries off and wraps the towel around his waist.

 

Jakub’s moved to the couch, tapping out messages on his phone. Michal hovers, uncertain of his welcome now, but ultimately sinks down on the other end of the couch. Jakub glances up, drags his eyes down Michal’s body, and licks his lips.

“Well—” “Um—” “I—”

They both start talking at the same time. Michal waves Jakub on. “You first.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Jakub says. He’s abandoned his phone on the coffee table. “I mean—I understand if you don’t, want to, because the team—and I’m—”

“I didn’t have to say yes,” Michal says, because clearly Jakub’s gotten the wrong idea. “The Caps traded for me because I’m Czech, yes. Because I’m an alpha. But also because I’m good at my job. I didn’t _have_ to take you through heat. I _want_ to.”

And yeah, he knows half the reason the Caps traded for him rather than some other D-man is _because_ of what happened in Chicago and how Jakub reacted to him, but— “You called me, this morning.” _Not Tom, or any one of your alpha teammates._

“I called Beags first,” Jakub admits, picking at the fabric of the sofa. He flicks a glance at Michal from under his lashes, and Michal _swears_ his own pheromones spike. Because that’s an absolutely _devastatingly_ _hot_ look. Michal swallows.

“And what did Beags tell you?” Michal can guess, considering he’d been woken up with a request for a scent-drenched blanket, but he wants to hear Jakub say it.

“That—that you want me. That I didn’t have to ... to fuck you if I didn’t want to.” _Shit,_ had Michal—Jakub must see Michal’s panic, because he’s quick to assure him, “I wanted to. I just ... forgot about the team. I don’t want to mess anything up, or ... I don’t know.” Jakub bites his lip again, gnawing at it. “Omegas are supposed to be leaders, yeah? And I don’t even know what I _want._ ”

Michal reaches out, slow and careful, and cups Jakub’s jaw in his palm. He tilts Jakub’s head up, and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Jakub’s mouth. “You think we all know what we’re doing all the time, just because we’re older? Jakoubek, we’re _all_ still figuring it out. Even Beags. Even Ovi.”

“Plus,” he has to add, “you’re doing pretty good at figuring out what you like me doing to you.”

That gets him a smile and a lapful of naked omega. Jakub’s skin is warm and smooth beneath his hands, miles of canvas to explore. Michal turns his head to the side and sneezes. Jakub’s pheromones are building again, heat-scent choking the air. Kid’s going to have to hire a professional cleaner after this.

 

They trade lazy kisses, Michal’s beard scraping over sensitive skin. Jakub enjoys burying his hands in Michal’s hair. Michal makes a high-pitched sound into Jakub’s mouth when Jakub thumbs over that delicate skin just below his ear. He squirms back into the couch’s embrace when Jakub pauses and then does it again. The sensation goes straight down to his cock, which is making itself known beneath the towel.

It would be so easy to flick the towel aside, let Jakub slide down onto his cock ... and Jakub’s kisses are hungry, chasing Michal’s mouth every time they break apart for air. Michal’s fingers grip tighter on Jakub’s hip, possibly enough to leave bruises. “Wait, wait,” he gasps.

Jakub actually bites Michal’s lip at that, but sits back on Michal’s thighs. “What?”

“Birth control. I’m on suppressants, but—”

Jakub tenses. “No.”

Michal strokes a hand up and down Jakub’s thigh. “Okay. Then we won’t do that.” It must be the right thing to say, because Jakub sighs and folds into Michal’s arms again. He rubs his cheek against Michal’s shoulder. Michal tilts his head back, hands skimming up Jakub’s thighs, up his back in long, slow strokes, eliciting a rumbling purr.

Michal knows they’ll have to leave the apartment eventually—for practice and for post-heat checkups and for tomorrow’s game—but for now he’s happy to savor the purring omega in his lap and ignore the outside world.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know if you notice mistakes and/or typos so I can correct them.


End file.
